Cruel, But

I really can't get over this poem. The imagery literally makes my stomach turn and I can't forget it. How uncomfortable it makes me feel. How many things we accept as natural, as perhaps instinct for the crocodile, then the question at the end makes me stop. The question of fault, of blame, and how that can tie into maybe death and violence we see with our own eyes? By our own hands? I looked up the kinds of crocodiles that eat antelope, how they are ambush predators, and how it's nearly impossible for the prey to escape. I thought this could reflect on those in the world who always have something or someone weighing them down, and though they struggle to merely survive, they're outnumbered (literally or not literally). Overpowered. And how it's become acceptable to some. Cruel in nature and cruel in humanity...

The antelope's for being weak? The crocodile's for being so powerful? Or nature's for being so darn cruel? I suppose it just is. At least the croc has the excuse of acting on instinct. We, on the other hand...
This is a wonderfully descriptive and thoughtful write.

Take care.